“My sister-in-law has left for England,” Bentinck said.
For a moment William was so taken off his guard that he expressed bewilderment.
“She went on orders of the Princess.”
William still did not speak, and Bentinck waited for the storm.
It did not come.
“I wish you to peruse these letters from Celle and give me your opinion.”
Bentinck bowed his head. His master’s control was admirable, but he wondered what he would do now, and he was sorry for the Princess, although he admired her action.
Anne Bentinck, advised by her husband to do so, warned Mary that the Prince knew of Elizabeth’s dismissal. Mary waited for his reaction, but there was no sign that he was in the least affected. William might not have been the slightest bit interested in Elizabeth Villiers.
But inwardly he was deeply disturbed, because he realized that he did not know his wife. When he believed that he had subdued her, she would act in such a way as to confound him. He had been congratulating himself on the manner in which he had handled her discovery of his intrigue. She had seemed meek enough, ready to see it as he wished her to; and then, when he absented himself, she cleverly got rid of Elizabeth. He could imagine what would happen to Elizabeth when she reached England. Mary was clever enough to have arranged that. She was carrying a letter to James. He could picture what was in that letter.
How could Elizabeth have been so foolish? She should never have gone to England. She should have escaped to him and told him what had happened.
But Mary had planned well; Elizabeth had left the Palace in the company of Mary’s servants—who were for that occasion Elizabeth’s guards. Who would have believed it possible that while Mary was playing the docile wife she was making a careful plan to send Elizabeth out of Holland?
The thought which was never far from his mind came back to torment him. When Mary was Queen of England, with powerful ministers to back her—Englishmen who would work for her—what would her attitude be toward her husband? What would she make him: King or consort?
It was the burning question which was always between them; it was one he dared not ask her because he was afraid of the answer. He had tried to make her completely subservient to his will and he so frequently believed he had succeeded; then—usually choosing one of his absences—she would show that she could have her own way.
Their relationship would never be a comfortable one until this question was answered. He could never show her that he was an affectionate husband until she said to him: “When and if the crown of Britain comes to me, you shall still be my master.” That was what he wanted from her; if she would give it, he would be prepared to treat her with respect and affection (although he would never give up Elizabeth). Until then, he would be cold to her, because he was uncertain of her.
He was miserable. Mary baffled him; and Elizabeth, the balm of whose company he needed, was gone.
But he told no one this; he asked no questions of anyone concerning her.
Nor did he mention to Mary that her action had angered him.
It is true, she thought. Elizabeth Villiers was not important to him.
Once she was safely on the boat which was to carry her to Harwich, Elizabeth’s captors relaxed their vigil, while she sat huddled against the wind and cursed her bad luck. What was she, who had made herself so comfortable in Holland, doing on a boat which was carrying her to England?
What would William say when he returned and found her gone? She knew William well. He would deplore her loss but he would do nothing about it. What could he do? He was not a man to rant and rave about something that could not be altered.
Who would have believed Mary capable of such a plan! But Mary was often deceptive. She had been in the old nursery days. But for the fact that she was so sentimental and, strangely enough, over-modest, she would have got far more of her own way. Mary was a dreamer who wanted others to dream with her.
But why waste time thinking of Mary now! Her plan had succeeded, Elizabeth had left Holland, and that was an end of that. What Elizabeth had to think of now was how to get back to Holland.
She touched the letter which was in her pocket. A letter to the King. She could imagine what was in it. “Keep this woman in England and do not let her return to Holland.” That was almost certain to be the gist.
And was she going to be so foolish as to present that letter to the King and meekly accept a lodging, possibly in the Tower?
When they reached England her captors were at her side.
She said: “I have to await an answer from my request to the King. I propose to have a message sent to him telling him I come from the Princess. In the meantime I shall lodge at my father’s house.”
This seemed reasonable and her guards accompanied her to the house of her father, Colonel Villiers, in Richmond. There her father welcomed her warmly for he knew of her position at The Hague and that of all his children she was, through her connection with William, the most influential.
As soon as she was alone with him she told him what had happened.
He listened gravely and said: “If James reads that letter you will never return to Holland.”
“So I believe.”
“You know what is happening here? There is trouble … Each week there are further complaints of the King’s rule. What the people dread is that James will have a son who will be brought up as a Catholic and thus we should have Catholicism back in England. They will never endure it. If the Queen has a son there will be big trouble.”
“You think that they will ask James to abdicate and set Mary in his place.”
“They might ask it, but James would not go. He is a fanatic, I do assure you. But that is for the future. More immediately, what of your future, my dear?
“I want to return to The Hague as soon as possible.”
“Before delivering that letter?”
“I should not be such a fool as to deliver that letter to the King.”
“Where is it?”
She brought it out and showed him.
“Her Highness’s seal,” said the Colonel. “Well, we must break it in a good cause.”
They did so and read the letter which was, as Elizabeth had suspected, an account of how the bearer, Elizabeth Villiers, was the mistress of the Prince of Orange and the Princess asked her father not to allow her to return to Holland.
“Well?” said the Colonel.
“There is only one thing to be done with such a document,” answered Elizabeth briskly, leaning forward and holding it in the flame of the candle.
Her father watched her with amusement. “And now?”
“I will rest, for I am tired. While I sleep you must prepare an account of everything you know is happening here. At dawn I rise and ride for Harwich. With a good wind I shall soon be back in The Hague.”
Anne Bentinck presented herself to Mary.
“Your Highness, my sister Elizabeth is in the Palace and asking to be received.”
Mary said: “I do not wish to receive her.”
“But Your Highness, her place …”
“Your sister has no place in my service.”
Anne Bentinck retired to tell Elizabeth that she would have to leave the Palace at once; for Anne’s husband had forbidden her to shelter her sister and as Anne was as docile a wife as Mary often was, she dared not disobey him.
When she was alone Mary asked herself why her father had failed her. Surely he would not, as he was trying to break her marriage with William. But of course Elizabeth had not given him the letter. She had guessed its contents, or read them.